


This Title is a Double Entendre

by Jarakrisafis, sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)



Series: Chest hair? Check. Cadash? Check. Second Cadash? Well... shit. [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Explicit Sexual Content, Multi, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 04:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/pseuds/sunspot
Summary: Returning to the Hinterlands is about as glorious as Olya expects. Which is to say, not very much at all. Good thing she has Eryk and Varric, right?
Relationships: Female Cadash/Male Cadash/Varric Tethras
Series: Chest hair? Check. Cadash? Check. Second Cadash? Well... shit. [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211753
Kudos: 1





	This Title is a Double Entendre

Returning to the Hinterlands is about as glorious as Olya expects. Which is to say, not very glorious at all. It's still, even after weeks, showing vivid signs of the recent fighting. The villages seem to be faring a little better than they were, but it's scant improvement when 'total shit' was the baseline.

They're trying to stay out of the villages. Too many Inquisition soldiers at once would put too great a strain on the limited resources they've managed to pull together.

Olya doesn't begrudge the villagers their comfort, but it doesn't mean she won't mourn the luxury of staying in an inn whenever she can. Tents are not the comfiest thing to use night after night, even if there's a dwarven crossbowman radiating warmth beside her. At least being the Inquisitor is good for something. The soldiers gave her a slightly larger tent on a wagon and insisted on putting it up for her every night.

Not that 'slightly larger' means much more than 'she can almost stand up' rather than having to crawl into it. But it also doesn't leak. That's a very nice bonus point. It doesn't mean that it is still not cold and miserable and she's thoroughly sick of travelling. Any longer and she's going to start losing track of how long they've been out here. Nothing but magic-scarred land and the odd, aggravated bear to look at. It seems like even the fire she's huddled beside can't warm her up, nor the unidentifiable jerky and broth that she choked down.

Varric dug up some coffee beans from some hidden stash. If she'd known he had those, she'd have raided them days back. Instead, she's leaning into him with her hands wrapped around a nearly empty mug as the moons rise and the air rapidly cools.

This would be the time she gracefully retires. Before it gets too late and the soldiers think she's not trusting them to do their job, but late enough she's not abandoning them to do all the hard work. She stands slowly, using Varric's shoulder to push herself upright before tugging at the cloak wrapped around him. Even Varric, she's amused to notice, the epitome of Free Marches fashion will sink to wearing Ferelden furs when it gets cold enough.

"Turning in?" he asks, taking the empty mug from her after she hastily drains the last dregs.

She should protest when he hands it off to a soldier; she's quite capable of washing her own pots, but for once she's happy to just let them do it for her. Her tent isn't far away, it's always at the centre of the little camp they get set up each night; to protect her -- Cullen's orders no doubt -- which means she never has far to go to retire.

The ties open under her fingers and she slips inside the canvas retreat with a sigh of relief at no longer having to try and keep a smile on her face before the sense that's kept her alive for years tells her that something isn't right.

"Woah, woah! Just me."

She slips the blade back into its sheath even before her eyes have adjusted. She knows that voice as well as she knows her own.

She should tell him he's an idiot for sneaking into her tent. Or tell him that one day she's going to gut him by accident. She does neither of those. A choked out _'Eryk'_ escaping her as she scrambles into his arms, kicking up the nicely laid out bedrolls in her haste.

"When did you sneak in?" Varric asks quietly as he ties the opening closed.

"Not too long ago," he replies, unwinding his arms from around her with a little frown.

He's not meant to be here, but she doesn't want to let go. 

"You're cold," he murmurs.

She leans into his hand where it's cupping a wind-blasted cheek where the fur hood hasn't quite kept the Ferelden winter at bay.

"I'm always cold," she mutters, irritated at a fact of life she can't control. It's why she misses having both of them with her. Having only Varric means no matter how much she curls into him she's always going to have a cold side.

Varric pulls off his boots and kneels on the bedroll. "We could warm you up?"

She throws a glance at the tent flap and the camp sounds she can still hear, muffled as they are by heavy canvas. "Yeah?" she asks, half curious and half daring. Not like she hasn't had a quick romp in a tent before now.

"Yeah," Eryk says, pushing some of her furs aside to reach her neck, where he knows she's most sensitive. Olya leans into his touch.

Varric chuckles. "Careful, Sneaky, she's gonna latch on and suck away all your warmth."

Olya can't argue, because that's exactly what she plans to do. She shrugs out of her coat and surges into her brother's arms, kissing him breathless. He's still her security blanket, even after all this time.

Eryk gets his hands up under her shirt and they're freezing. She squeals and jumps back, knocking Varric sideways.

"You're supposed to be warming me up!" she says accusingly. He just chuckles and reaches for her again, tugging her into his lap. Olya goes willingly enough. Eryk makes a show of breathing into his cupped hands and rubbing them together before he divests her of her shirt.

It's not that Olya forgot Varric is there -- he's rather hard to forget -- but she gets wrapped up in Eryk and she hasn't seen him in weeks… She reaches blindly behind her and makes a grabbing motion in Varric's direction.

Given the size of the tent it was inevitable she would grab something. She doesn't expect the yelp that accompanies the handful of shirt she grabbed or for him to move quite so quickly.

"Easy, you'll pluck me bald," he murmurs in her ear as he settles behind her.

"Sorry," she's anything but, as she turns her head to give him a grin that speaks of her amusement. She hadn't meant to grab his chest hairs but it was a rather amusing sound he made.

"Troublemaker," Varric mutters, his tone fond.

She doesn't respond - not because she has nothing to say, but because Eryk seizes the chance to kiss her and she splutters before kissing him back. She has nowhere to go when Varric settles his hands over her breasts. His very cold hands. She gasps into Eryk's mouth, suddenly aware of how hemmed in she is. Especially when the same cold fingers brush over her nipples and Eryk's warmer hands settle on her hips, keeping her firmly in his lap.

Some days, she'll fight her way out of such a hold, some days she'll sit up and use the tone of voice which tells them she wants more control. Today is not one of those days. She's tired of this place and tired of the shit brought on by the sodding mark. So she relaxes, letting them hold her as they touch, exploring as if this is the first time they've done this. Her eyes slip half closed, body limp under their attention.

"Varric, want to try that idea?" Eryk's tone suggests he's mighty pleased with whatever he's planning. Olya's _very_ familiar with that tone.

She blinks a little, pulling her mind back to focus on them. Not that she's worried of course. Well, not worried much.

"Sounds good," Varric says, and she can detect anticipation in his voice.

"Eryk, what are you planning?" she asks as she follows the guiding hands to lift her hips so her breeches can be pushed down. It could be rote for them, but she still feels that same fluttering in her core as she did the first time.

He smirks, slowly running a hand down her chest, letting it drift over her stomach and stops just shy of her clit, fingers buried in her soft curls. Olya grumbles, but Eryk's smirk just grows.

"Going to take you at the same time, sister. See how full you can get."

That certainly banishes any remaining haze. An entirely involuntary moan escapes her throat. Heat prickles all over, excitement, lust, maybe a touch of trepidation. "How?"

"Well, sister, you see-"

She places a hand over Eryk's mouth before his sarcasm kills her dead.

"Fuck you. I meant, how? Uhhh, which? Like both in one?" She takes her hand back and makes a vague gesture with it. 

Eryk snickers at her lost words, so it's Varric that answers. "Best to work up to that, Ollie. Stick with one in each for now, yeah?"

She pouts, somewhat disappointed, knowing she could probably handle it. But she does realise that certainly wasn't a _no,_ just a _later._ And besides, she likes this plan too -- if they get on with it that is. She can already imagine how it's going to feel and she wants it.

She shifts her weight on Eryk's lap and his breath hitches. His fingers on her hip press down to keep her still. Eryk's other hand slides lower, teasing at her entrance. She growls, frustration mounting when he makes no move to do anything else.

Varric's hand trails up her neck and jaw, tugging her head back as he keeps his grip firm, forcing her to arch her back. Her gasp as a warm mouth settles on her neck is loud and a hand is moved over her mouth.

"You think you can be quiet?" Varric asks, his warm breath ghosting over her ear. "Otherwise we're gonna have a lot of worried soldiers bursting in."

He must be able to feel her nod as he removes his hand. She tightens her grip on her Eryk's shoulders when Varric moves away entirely. She only has a moment to mourn the loss as there's the sound of fabric shifting and then she's being laid down. Her breeches pulled off her legs where they'd gathered and her thighs pushed up and apart. She snuggles into the warmth of the bedroll and peers up at Varric above her and Eryk between her spread legs.

She still doesn't know what she wants to do more, let them do as they will, or try to take control. Whichever would get her what she wants right now would be good, great, amazing. And what she wants is Eryk's fingers doing more than sodding teasing her.

Varric leans down, tongue flickering over a nipple until she moans, fingers tightening on the bedding as she muffles more sounds by biting her cheek. Varric hums, mouth closing as he sucks and she whines, hips rising to find any friction. Bastards know exactly how to drive her wild.

"Patience."

"Fuck you," she mutters back between deep breaths.

"Keep being rude and I'll use oil straight out of the pot."

Her threat that he wouldn't dare use something that cold is cut off as he finally touches her again. She presses up into the pressure, whining when he follows her body, keeping the fingers slowly circling her clit light. At least they aren't cold as he threatened; she'd have kicked him if he dared.

She can't see the communication but she's sure they are somehow, as Varric shifts to keep her hips firmly pressed down before he drops his head again to lavish attention on her other breast.

She can't do anything except writhe in place as Eryk slowly eases two fingers into her cunt.

"We've barely been in here ten minutes," he says. "You're already this wet?"

Olya bites down on her lip to keep from whimpering too much and both of her beaus chuckle. One of Varric's hands lifts away from her hips and she gasps as she feels one of his fingers pushing in next to Eryk's.

"Shit," Varric says, his voice a low rumble. "Eager isn't she?"

"Isn't she always?" Eryk replies. She can imagine the smug grin on his face without having to see it.

She can't and won't deny it as she clamps her teeth together on a loud moan as Varric presses a second finger in. Her cunt clutches tight around them, and she breathes in ragged gasps as they move. It's not the same as one of them, not as precise or technically proficient, but the thought that they're both fucking her at the same time makes her throb with lust.

"Varric, Eryk!" she manages to get out, "please!" She isn't sure what she wants more: for them to keep going with what they're doing or for someone to put a cock inside her.

She snarls when one of them stops moving and pulls out, leaving her cunt feeling empty.

"I've had an idea." Varric mutters. Given his position kneeling over her she has a fairly good idea what he's thinking as he divests himself of his belt and opens his breeches. Her breath quickens as he frees his length, a little adjustment of his position and she's able to enthusiastically close her lips around his cock.

She wails as Varric leans closer, until she can feel the rough stubble at his jaw against her thighs, and drags his tongue over her clit and between her folds. A good thing his cock is stretching her lips wide as it muffles the sound.

Eryk's fingers leave her. She would protest, if she wasn't too busy trying to moan around a cock and press up into Varric's mouth as he sucks on her clit.

The press of fingers against her ass reminds her of their plans and she eagerly tries to roll her hips in a wordless suggestion to get on with it. She's happy to notice he's warmed whatever he's using to ease his way.

Eryk doesn't waste any time. One, then swiftly two, once he realises she's good to take both. Her exclamation is muted when Varric's hips twitch, driving his cock further into her willing mouth until her hands rise to settle on his hips, scrabbling at his skin and digging in.

There's a moment where she's unsure if she wants more, or less. Varric takes the decision from her, pushing away from her cunt to focus on fucking her face with short thrusts. It was the right call. She tilts her head back, hollows her cheeks, and sucks.

"Love watching you take his cock, Ollie."

She hums, mostly agreement, and Varric draws out a long curse before pulling out and sitting back on his heels.

"Menace," he says, brushing hair off her forehead, his breathing heavy. She smirks up at him through swollen lips. She can't help it if she's had a lot of practice at sucking cocks.

Eryk wipes his fingers on the closest fabric and hurries out of his clothing. "Move over a sec."

She grumbles at the chilled air on her back as she rolls out of the way so he can settle down. She doesn't wait for his permission to move back, kneeling over him. Varric's fingers are on her , spreading her cunt and guiding her down. Eryk makes a strangled moan and tugs her down against his chest. She can feel him trembling as he fights to stay still.

"Oh --" she gasps in a breath, "-- fuck." as Varric's cock presses against her ass, slowly sliding in until she feels more full, more stretched out and _taken_ than ever before. Her panting is loud as she waits. She's not sure which of them moves first. All she knows is she's aching with need.

"Look at you. Taking both of us so fucking easily." Varric's rumble should not be allowed. It's a weapon that goes straight to her core. "Wonder how long we could do this, keep you so needy and gasping like this for us."

"Not long if you keep talking like that." Eryk mutters as his hands settle on her hips, fingers intertwining with Varric's.

They start slowly, matching each other's rhythm after a few moments of fumbling. Olya can't do anything but hang on. She feels their cocks moving together through the thin wall separating them, recognizes Eryk's hitching breaths matching up with the tempo. Varric presses his teeth to her shoulder, just a hint of a bite and she hears him murmuring nonsense, because he's incapable of shutting up.

She swears softly as fingers dig into her hair, tugging her head back -- it's a counterpart to the fingers touching her clit with firm strokes. She doesn't care anymore that she's losing control, her pleas falling from her lips in a stream. She's so fucking close, need curling close to the surface and she just needs a little more to push her over the edge.

It seems she hangs there, hovering over the precipice for far longer than seemingly possible before there are fingers on her clit that shift and twist. The little jolt of pain is her undoing as she comes with a hastily bitten back scream, clenching on their cocks as she shudders.

"So pretty," Varric mutters above her as he lets her hair go and braces himself a little better. They set an almost brutal pace - not giving her time to recover and she stays bonelessly collapsed on her brother, letting them use her how they want. Her arms have decided holding her up is no longer a requirement and have given up entirely. Eryk presses a hand over her mouth to muffle the sharp cries she can't stop as she lets her head rest on him.

Eryk stutters first, his hips juddering as he presses himself as deep as he can, his grip tight enough she's sure she'll bruise. Good. She wears her brother's marks proudly. Varric pulls out so she can lift herself off Eryk's cock and settle on the ground. Pushing back in with no resistance as soon as she's comfortable again, Varric fucks into her, chasing his own climax.

Fingers press against her cunt before pulling away and she obediently opens her mouth before Eryk can ask. She swirls her tongue around them, basking in the taste of his release and her own taste mixing on her tongue.

Varric leans down, biting her shoulder again, hard, muffling his own shout. She groans at the flare of pain. Not entirely her thing, but after such good sex she's barely noticing.

She rolls off Eryk, uncaring at her messy state and snuggles into the bedroll. She'd rather wake up a sticky mess than get cold trying to go clean up at this time of night. They don't seem to mind, shuffling around to keep her in the centre and get the blankets tugged out from where they ended up and laid out to help keep the warmth in.

"Love you both," she murmurs. "Gotta do that again. Or you know, the other option. But somewhere warmer please."

"It's a date," Varric replies, kissing the shell of her ear.

Eryk's only reply is a snore.


End file.
